


broken image

by deepspacevoyagers



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Femslash, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23138686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepspacevoyagers/pseuds/deepspacevoyagers
Summary: “No,” Seven’s voice breaks. “You are B’Elanna Torres, daughter of Miral.”The events of Unimatrix Zero go in a different direction, and Seven of Nine tries to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Seven of Nine/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

Seven of Nine knows she does not experience fear.

She is Borg.

Yet all she feels is a distinct sensation of dread, her heart sinking with each step she takes into the brig.

If this is not fear, then what is it?

She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, trying to compose herself. The debate can wait until Commander Tuvok recovers, and she cannot afford to leave this task neglected.

Neelix had volunteered, of course, but she had asserted that she was the most suited for the assignment, having both the expertise and the capability to handle its potential dangers, something which Commander Chakotay agreed with.

The guard on duty nods at her and resumes his watch from a respectful distance, leaving her face to face with the drone.

Tainted brown eyes meet hers, and she feels as if she’s been slapped in the face.

She first saw the drone, briefly, after the away team returned from the cube, after being called by security to help contain the threat. Amidst the chaos, she had no time to let emotions cloud her judgement, no time to let a broken heart dictate her actions.

Unlike the present.

She’s met with her fair share of unpleasant surprises over the years, all of which she’s managed to solve with her abilities and _Voyager_ ’s resources at her disposal.

But this is the first time she genuinely has no idea how to proceed, despite having been through this very nightmare.

She feels fearful.

The drone, who had been studying her in silence, tilts her head. Then she speaks.

“You are Borg.”

Seven stiffens.

“I am Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One.”

She doesn’t want to voice out her next question, knowing what the answer will be, but she knows what she must do.

“State your designation.”

“Two of Twelve, Primary Adjunct of Unimatrix Four Seven.” The drone’s voice is mechanical, void of emotion. Void of life.

“No,” Seven’s voice breaks. “You are B’Elanna Torres, daughter of Miral.”

“That designation is irrelevant,” the drone intones. “We are Borg.”

“You are half-Human, half-Klingon. An individual.” She remembers how determined, how desperate Captain Janeway had been when she was in B’Elanna’s place, trying to remind her of her humanity, and wishes she had the captain’s strength to do the same; that she was by her side, knowing the right thing to do.

Yet Captain Janeway is still in a critical condition, lying in a coma in sickbay, with Commander Chakotay taking up the burdens of command and Lieutenants Paris and Kim knee-deep in repairs.

She’s in this alone.

But _Voyager_ would not be able to survive the journey to the Alpha Quadrant without its chief engineer, and increasingly, she thinks, neither would she.

“A hybrid of Species 5008 and Species 5618,” B’Elanna states, completely oblivious to her passionate overtures. “This unit would make an excellent drone with its intellect and strength.” Her eyes narrow almost accusingly. “And yet, we have been severed from the Collective.”

“You are B’Elanna Torres,” Seven insists harshly, not knowing how else to make her remember. “You were born in the Alpha Quadrant, joined the Maquis, became a member of this crew after the Caretaker pulled you into the Delta Quadrant. You are an engineer, a warrior, an individual.”

She stares into B’Elanna’s dark eyes, into her soul, knowing that she’s still there, trapped in a web of deception.

“ _Voyager_ is your collective.”

Her plea parallels the words she once said to Captain Janeway, which still echo in her very being.

 _Voyager_ is her family.

B’Elanna is family.

But all she receives in response is an unmoved stare from the hijacked body of a woman she cannot bear to live without.

“Irrelevant.” B’Elanna takes a step towards her. “You are flawed, lacking perfection without the Collective. Your attempts at appealing to this drone will fail.”

She’s suddenly aware of how shallow her breathing has become, and looks away, breaking eye contact.

“You show fear, irrelevant human emotions. You fear perfection. Explain.”

She closes her eyes, tries to catch her breath, but fails. She should have read up more on how to assist former Borg, how to help victims of trauma, and yet she didn’t, believing she had sufficient experience.

It was a mistake.

She forces herself to look at the drone, at B’Elanna, one last time. “I will return tomorrow. Good night.”

Not waiting for a reply, she turns away and leaves, her heart and soul numb.


	2. Chapter 2

When Seven next enters the brig, she’s still not sure if she can reach out to B’Elanna.

The literature and reports she spent hours poring over suggest jogging the victim’s memory with familiar objects and shared experiences, while slowly rebuilding trust and one’s relationship with the individual involved. It’s something which she finds most logical, yet despite her overwhelming desire to bring B’Elanna back, she’s confronted with the reality that the two of them have never had a personal history together.

She doesn’t even think they can be considered friends, in any sense of the word.

All that she knows about B’Elanna is derived from her personnel file and personal observations from their past three years as colleagues. They’ve rarely interacted outside of their duties; never had the chance to bond. The parameters of their relationship have been stagnant, never changing – something which she wants to alter, should – no, when B’Elanna recovers.

After some debate, she had concluded that Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Paris or one of B’Elanna’s other Maquis crewmates would be able to assist in B’Elanna’s therapy, being more familiar with her and able to leverage on their shared history. Even with the absence of a professional counsellor, she’s confident that B’Elanna would receive sufficient support from the crew, be freed from her artificial prison.

The problem is that B’Elanna’s imprisoned soul cannot wait. The longer it takes to intervene and start the healing process, the harder it will be for B’Elanna to regain her previous life, as she knows all too well from her personal experience. By all means, B’Elanna’s personality should have begun to emerge after soon she was disconnected from the Collective, just as it had happened to the other members of her Unimatrix, and to Jean-Luc Picard from his Locutus persona. Something’s wrong, and she cannot afford to wait and do nothing.

Searching for hope, she takes a deep breath and decides to share her story with the drone.

“I was once just like you,” she begins, the pain still raw in her heart. “I was assimilated as a child. My parents took a vessel to study the Borg. The _Raven_.”

B’Elanna shows no signs that she is listening, but she presses on.

“They were careful, but the Borg eventually came after them. I was taken and became one of them. A drone.” She pauses to regain her composure. “I took part in the assimilation of thousands. I had no compassion, no memories of my past. Even when I received a chance to be free, to become an individual, I turned it down, made the decision for the others.”

She’s never been able to make peace with her past, but the fact that she’s able to talk about it means something.

“Then, _Voyager_ came into my life.”

Seated opposite her, B’Elanna’s eyes remain hard and emotionless, and she knows the other woman’s denouncing of her pleas is soon to be inevitable.

“We became involved in a conflict with Species 8472. Captain Janeway chose to ally with the Borg, and I was chosen as its representative.” She stands and begins circling the room to ignore her discomfort with what the Doctor had termed déjà vu. “At the time, I detested individuality. I saw _Voyager_ ’s crew as small, thinking in small terms. They lacked harmony, cohesion, greatness. They were emotional, chaotic, most of all inefficient.”

She stops and locks eyes with B’Elanna. “But no matter how many times I resisted the captain’s overtures, even though I went against the terms of our agreement, betrayed them, they never gave up on me. I owe my life, my humanity, to this crew.”

In an ideal scenario, B’Elanna would soften even by just a fraction, showing signs that she was still in there, listening, waiting to hear more. Instead, B’Elanna’s dark eyes narrow and her artificially modulated voice turns cold. “Your continuous attempts to appeal to this drone will fail. This exercise is pointless, irrelevant. You will no longer attempt to associate with this drone.”

“Try me.” She shoots B’Elanna her most challenging stare, daring her to fight back. There’s no way she’s giving up, not now, not ever.

Before she can react B’Elanna lunges forward, barely grazing the force field.

“You will leave immediately and cease communications with this drone,” B’Elanna commands, her cold fury barely disguised, and Seven sees the guard approaching them warily, phaser in hand.

Waving him back, she gives B’Elanna one last defiant look. “For now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna write B/7 fluff so bad but somehow only all the angst is coming out :/


	3. Chapter 3

The act of regenerating has become like second nature to Seven.

Though she occasionally has flashbacks to the warmth and comfort of lying on a bed as a child, nothing compares with the efficiency of simply stepping into her alcove and closing her eyes.

If only that held true now.

After her latest encounter with B’Elanna, she’s been preoccupied with calculating what went wrong, unable to let sleep overcome her.

_“You appear to have a death wish,”_ _B’Elanna says as she steps in, glaring at her the same way she used to whenever she had done something without her authorization; a glare which she had not seen for nearly two years._

_“I only wish to save B’Elanna Torres,”_ _she retorts just as quickly, hiding her discomfort with the realization that she had just lost her cool._

_“Then you are only wasting your time.”_

_Ignoring the barb, she pushes forward. “Since you failed to express an interest in hearing about my past, I will change the topic to that of B’Elanna Torres.”_

_“Irrelevant.”_

_“B’Elanna Torres may be irrelevant to you, but she is most relevant to me. She taught me not to judge others by first impressions alone.”_ At this, she had raised her chin, finding strength with every word she spoke. “ _The first time I met B’Elanna Torres, I was assigned to Engineering to assist in removing the Borg modifications. She asked if I could recall the way it looked before it turned into a Borg circus.”_

_“Over the course of my first year on the ship, B’Elanna Torres continued to express hostility towards me and my ‘unacceptable’ working style. We maintained a significant number of disagreements, hindering the efficiency of ship operations. Yet, I grew to notice and respect her engineering skills and talents as we became accustomed to working together. She is analytical, intelligent, direct.”_

_“Even though I was not fully accepted by many of the crew by the end of my first year, I felt gratified that B’Elanna Torres was not one of those crew members. She became comfortable enough to joke with me that we would be outcasts together if we succeeded in returning to Earth, even asking if were on a second date after I had courted her while under the persona of the son of K’Vok.”_

Despite the pain, she can’t help but smile, faintly amused.

_“B’Elanna Torres is courageous. She never gives up despite the odds, never shies away from problems. When she volunteered for the Unimatrix Zero mission without any hesitation or reservations, I immediately grew to admire her even more.”_

From the time she had first come aboard, she had slowly developed a respect for many of _Voyager_ ’s crew, but could not say she admired any of them. Yet before she had realized it, she had long gained an admiration for B’Elanna. In vocalizing her belief, she had thought that nothing else could shake her belief that B’Elanna could still be saved.

Until B’Elanna had lifted her head in defiance, and spoke.

_“A foolish plan, as was B’Elanna Torres. The Queen will still be able to hunt down all errant drones. Your efforts were small-minded, chaotic. The Borg will prevail.”_

_“Then perhaps you did not hear about our small-minded, chaotic successful attempt to permanently sever Unimatrix Zero from the Collective.”_

_“At the cost of three of your crew.”_

_“Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok are recovering, just as you are.”_

_“Then what is the point of this pointless exercise?”_ _Unrestrained malice begins to colour her voice as she unflinchingly walks up to the force field. “B’Elanna Torres is no more. You will return this drone to the Collective.”_

_“I cannot do that.”_

_“You will return this drone to the Collective.”_ _She’s close to coming eye to eye with her, almost threatening to reach out and throttle her. The intensity of B’Elanna’s glare makes her step back involuntarily, and should she break free, she can’t disable her without risking any permanent injury…_

_“Perhaps you should leave for now, ma’am.”_ _Lieutenant Ayala, the guard on duty, is at her side without her realizing it, his glance pitiful._

_She feels more than a twinge of irritation at being interrupted, but nods and departs once Ayala confirms the cell is secure._

B’Elanna Torres had always been just as stubborn as her, and nothing could be done about it.

Her duties had then taken up her attention for the rest of the day – radio chatter picked up from some passing ships had indicated the presence of a trading post a few hundred light years ahead. Believing it was worth the risk, Commander Chakotay had immediately ordered Lieutenant Paris to alter course. To minimize the chances of encountering any Borg or Hirogen, she was tasked with conducting more detailed scans of the region ahead – a simple process that had become unnecessarily complicated, with her broken emotions clouding her senses.

Unacceptable.

Glancing at a chronometer reveals that two hours has passed. She knows she must regenerate, whether she likes it or not. It’s going to be another long day ahead, and she’s also needed to help out in Engineering. Lieutenant Carey has been remarking that the engines aren’t just the same without B’Elanna, something she knows all too well.

But whenever she closes her eyes, she still sees B’Elanna’s hostile visage staring daggers into her soul, twisted and too far gone, buried for all eternity.

That night, rest is futile.


	4. Chapter 4

“Since I am exhausting my supply of relevant conversational topics,” Seven says before B’Elanna can get a word in, “We will discuss the issue of Lieutenant Paris.”

“Tom Paris.” B’Elanna’s tone is almost mocking. “He attempted but failed to appeal to this drone’s humanity.”

“He attempted to appeal to your true self,” she corrects sharply.

As expected, B’Elanna is unfazed. “In time, you will fail, just as he did.”

“I think not.” She places her trembling hands behind her back. “I first became aware of your former relationship with Lieutenant Paris through my observations of your behaviours. Although it was not my intention, my theories were later confirmed by ship’s gossip.”

“How human of you.”

“While I found studying your relationship to be useful in helping me understand human behaviours, it had no emotional bearing upon me. But over time, as I started to value you as an individual, I began to feel somewhat…irritated when I saw you and Lieutenant Paris together.”

B’Elanna’s gaze is inscrutable. “Explain.”

“At first, I assumed my irritation was linked to the correlation between the frequency of your off-duty activities and a drop in efficiency from both your departments.” She pauses, uncertain about her feelings. “However, there is a possibility that the cause was jealousy, for reasons which I cannot identify.”

She may be human, but she still does not understand what it means to truly embrace being human, and to accept all of its chaotic, fragile emotions. The very feeling of being unsure is something which she despises, and she’s starting to get second thoughts again. Since she herself cannot comprehend her own humanity, why would she be the right person to appeal to B’Elanna? Even Lieutenant Paris, B’Elanna’s former paramour, had not succeeded despite numerous attempts in the past few days, and he had known B’Elanna much more intimately than herself.

What hope is there for her now?

Across the barrier, B’Elanna is processing her words, no doubt preparing to pass another smug, judgemental statement about the weakness of humans and what they are lacking without the Collective. Her defences, weakened by grief, will take a beating once more, and her confidence will be shaken yet again. Regret will consume her soon enough, and though she can knows she can maintain her usual façade, it won’t last.

She’s not strong enough.

B’Elanna stares at her, and she steels herself for what is to come.

Instead, the unthinkable happens.

“Explain the nature of the relationship between B’Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine.”

She momentarily forgets to breathe. “I beg your pardon?”

“You will explain the nature of the relationship between B’Elanna Torres and yourself.” B’Elanna is looking thoughtful, strangely curious even.

“We are just colleagues. Ship mates.” It’s the truth, but she feels as if she’s just told a lie.

B’Elanna frowns ever so slightly, her expression only betraying a spark of puzzlement.

“Yet you speak of jealousy. B’Elanna Torres makes you emotional and you never cease to communicate about this individual. Explain.”

“I cannot.” She looks away, uneasy. “We are not friends. We do not even spend much time together. But B’Elanna Torres means something to me.”

“Then perhaps,” B’Elanna intones, “You need to re-evaluate the nature of your relationship.”

She thinks that it’s just her imagination, but some part of her is certain that B’Elanna’s harsh voice had softened by just a fraction, that the hostility in her eyes had begun to diminish, that she had just managed to form a tangible connection with the drone.

This time, when B’Elanna gazes at her, she doesn’t look away.

“I will.”


	5. Chapter 5

She had been refining her scans of the expanse ahead, devoting her full attention to the task at hand. To her relief, no Borg or Hirogen movements were detected in the sector, and the few dense asteroid fields could be easily avoided. That the navigational challenges ahead would be minor, and the voyage to the trading post would be uneventful would be a logical expectation.

Then came the urgent summons to sickbay.

She’d dropped everything and left in a heartbeat, barely maintaining her composure as she rushed through _Voyager_ ’s darkened corridors.

Her façade lasts until the very moment she steps through the doors.

B’Elanna is lying motionlessly, her pale face now bruised and bloodied.

_No_.

“There you are,” the Doctor remarks almost nonchalantly, brushing past her with a tray of medical instruments.

“What happened?” She demands with an irrational surge of anger, catching hold of his arm.

He pauses and sighs. “She’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about. From what I understand, it all started after Commander Chakotay finally paid a visit to Lieutenant Torres. After he left, she began to experience severe heart palpitations. She, however, disagreed with my decision to bring her to sickbay and put up quite a fight.”

“After which she was sedated, and brought here.” She releases him, watching as he performs a series of scans.

“That’s correct.”

“The last time I met with her, her violent tendencies were under control. I don’t understand how this could happen.”

“You’ll have to speak with Commander Chakotay.” The tricorder makes a rapid series of beeps, and he frowns. “Hmm.”

“Doctor, what is it?” When he doesn’t reply, she reaches forward impatiently to grab hold of the tricorder.

The data stream is chaotic and the variables multiple, but the answer is clear.

“Her body is starting to reject her implants.”

The Doctor nods. “A reasonable conclusion, especially when compared to your own scans, three years ago.” He pulls up the relevant files from his computer terminal. “We don’t have Kes to help if anything goes wrong this time, but the rate of nanoprobe replication in her body is slowing down, which is a good sign. By the way, I hope you haven’t been taking too many lessons in social etiquette from the Lieutenant.”

_“You’re rude,”_ B’Elanna had once said.

She flinches and looks down, chastened.

“I’m sorry, Doctor.”

“Apology accepted. Now, if you’ll recall, the method we used to eradicate the nanoprobes in Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok –”

“– First involved the stopping of the replication process, then introducing a series of chemical compounds to break down the nanoprobes.”

“There’s no reason to believe it won’t work again, but Lieutenant Torres has been Borg for longer than either of them. Some of her organs may have already become more dependent on her nanoprobes.”

“If that’s the case, we should get started right now.” She turns to see a troubled Lieutenant Paris enter sickbay, studiously ignoring her.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Mister Paris,” The Doctor remarks with cheerful sarcasm. “We’ll begin by removing her armour and external implants. I’m not risking halting the nanoprobe replication until I do more detailed scans.”

“I will assist by monitoring her vital signs and conducting the scans,” she says immediately, unwilling to be a passive bystander.

“I thought you might. Now then, Mister Paris, if you could start by getting a sample of her blood –”

“– A moment, Doctor.” She doesn’t know what’s possessing her to do this, but she strides over to B’Elanna’s side and leans forward, closing her eyes as she places her lips on B’Elanna’s bruised forehead.

She can feel Lieutenant Paris glowering at her as she breaks away from the kiss, but does not care.

“I’m ready.”


	6. Chapter 6

“What have you done to me?”

B’Elanna’s voice, newly freed from the vocal processor, is soft and weak, but nothing can disguise her pure fury.

“I have done what was necessary to save your life,” Seven counters.

“We did not ask for your assistance,” B’Elanna shoots back. “And thanks to yourself and your Commander Chakotay, this drone can no longer hear the others.”

“As I said, it was necessary to save your life.”

“You, of all individuals, should know that a drone cannot survive alone outside the Collective.”

She’s tempted to reply with a snarky “Then learn”, which would probably be exactly what B’Elanna would say if their positions were reversed, but decides otherwise. “Your body was beginning to reject your implants. If we did not start to remove them, you could have died.”

“Then the simple solution should have been to return this drone to the Collective.” B’Elanna stares at her pointedly.

She clenches her fist, frustrated. This conversation was going nowhere.

“Now then,” B’Elanna continues quietly, still hostile, “Are we going to continue going around in circles, or did you have a more efficient use of your time planned out?”

“Actually, I did,” Seven retorts, making no attempt to leave.

“And this is what you regard as efficiency?” B’Elanna rasps after a moment. “Perhaps _you_ are the one who needs to return to the Collective.”

Refusing to be baited, she takes a deep breath and looks into her eyes. “The last time we spoke, you asked me to re-evaluate the relationship our relationship. I have done so.”

“By all means, elaborate. It’s not as if this drone has nothing better to do.” B’Elanna folds her arms.

(It would only be long after she left did she realize that they hadn’t argued like this in months and that she actually missed their arguing.)

“Extrapolating from the fact you are involved in an average of 80% of my thoughts on a daily basis, the sensation that you mean something to me, and that you appear to be far more aesthetically pleasing with the removal of your implants, I have come to the conclusion that I have feelings for you.”

B’Elanna is silent, slowly processing her words. When she finally meets her eyes, something has shifted.

“And what will you do about it?”

This time, she’s not so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, sorry for taking so long to continue this story! I'm not sure when I can post the next chapter but I do have the rest of the story plotted up. Second, stay safe everyone! <3


End file.
